


A Call From a Kitten

by Cipher_Stars



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Call Girl, Dirty Talk, M/M, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-10-01 20:24:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20394823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cipher_Stars/pseuds/Cipher_Stars
Summary: Square: A1 Pornstar/Sex worker/RentboySummary: Tony Stark falls into the 'call girl' industry after Afghanistan to fulfil his craving for intimacy.





	A Call From a Kitten

After Afghanistan, Tony was loath to admit that he struggled. Things that used to be  _ so  _ easy for him became challenges that he didn’t know how to overcome - at first that is, he is Tony 

Stark after all and he can fix any problem. However, no one said his ‘fixes’ where healthy.

His first problem was that he couldn’t sleep; the stench of the damp cave haunting him, the sound of Yinsen’s rattling chest, the pain of torture and the anguish of heart surgery without anesthetic had sunk its claws into his dreams and wouldn’t let go. He solved this problem by not sleeping at all, instead he went on a workshop binge, overworking himself to the point of exhaustion for three days until he would finally collapse into a fitful sleep for about five hours.

His second solution was much easier than he imagined because of his workshop binges which meant he quickly finished a new arc reactor design and was well on his way to mark II of the armour.

Then came his third dilemma, the one that people were more likely to notice - he could no longer bare people touching him. For a playboy, him not taking people home would cause speculation to run rampant across news stations and magazines. Not to mention that part of his job was to smooth talk people into investing in the company, that often required hand shakes, a quick touch on the elbow when talking and even maybe a hug before leaving. Even his thing of not letting people hand him things (Screw you Howard) was easy to pass of as a ‘quirk’ of a billionaire who liked being awkward. Not wanting to touch people however, that was going to be difficult. 

After Obadiah’s unfortunate death and Tony coming clean about Iron Man, he found himself seeking out help - professional help that is. Dr Lecter had prescribed him some medication for his anxiety and PTSD, as well as some sleeping pills so he was now getting at least 8 hours of sleep a night. Granted, this medication didn’t stop all of his problems, sometimes he still went on workshop binges for days because he had a nightmare and sometimes he got panic attacks  _ but  _ he was on the right track. The thing was though, Tony couldn’t admit to having problems with intimacy which led him to his own solution.

_ Becoming a call girl. _

Well, call boy. Call man? Nevermind, the important thing was that he could have the intimacy he craved without having to deal with someone touching him. It was the perfect solution. Until he got a call from  _ him _ .

* * *

It was a typical Saturday night for Tony; he had just finished a good day in the workshop and he was now sitting on his couch with a tumbler glass with two fingers of very expensive whiskey. In his other hand, he held the newest Stark phone (Which hadn’t even been released yet). A woman was on the phone, moaning gently as she followed Tony’s instruction to finger herself. Tony felt a faint stirring in his groin at the sound but felt no need to take care of it, he was in this for the connection that he could no longer get face to face and only masturbated on the rare occasion that someone’s voice or what they were saying really turned him on. This woman wasn’t one of them. After the woman had orgasmed, her panting breath audible over the phone, she must have realised what she had done and hung up in embarrassment. He understood but it still made him laugh; descious one made when one was horny often led to embarrassment. He put the phone on the table with a sigh and stretched his arms up. He had been at it for about an hour and a half, he had had 7 calls in that time with the money he had made going to shelters for victims of sexual abuse. He was debating going to bed when his phone vibrated on the table. One more call wouldn’t hurt.

“Hey there, sexy. How are you tonight?”

There was a pause before the person on the other end of the phone released a heavy breath.

“Hello,” the man answered in a voice like melted chocolate. “I am well, thank you for asking.”

The man had an accent that Tony couldn't place (Though it was extremely soothing) , but the stiff way he spoke - like a Prince or King - betrayed his nerves that his voice didn’t show.

“Well, baby, what can I do for you tonight?”

The man seemed to struggle for an answer, the stiffness seeming to fall apart at the suggestive question.

“I - um I,” the man paused, hopefully to build his courage. “Maybe this was a mistake.” The man blurted out. 

“Hey, no, it’s okay,” Tony soothed, “Just breath baby. Now, what do you want me to call you?”

The man didn’t answer and Tony bit his lip. Maybe he should tell the guy to hang up, he was clearly uncomfortable. Though he wouldn’t have phoned unless he wanted too. Maybe he just needed some gentle nudging in the right direction.

“Baby, do you want to give me a name to call you? Yes or no?”

“Yes,” the man rushed out as soon as Tony finished his question, “you can call me T’Challa.”

“Okay T’Challa, where are you?”

“I’m in a hotel, in bed.”

Well, at least he knew to say he was in bed. This whole thing wouldn’t have worked as well if he said somewhere else. So, he obviously wasn’t a complete virgin. Maybe it was just his first time calling a sex line. 

“Hmm, I’m in bed too,” Tony lied. “What are you wearing?”

“A bathrobe,” T'Challa muttered.

Tony took a sip from his whiskey and placed the tumbler on the table in front of him.

“Talk about easy access, baby.” Tony felt his voice go deeper. “It would be so quick to get my hands on you, just a slight tug on the belt.” A whimper left T'Challa, causing Tony's cock to twitch. “Where should I touch you first, baby?” When there was no reply, Tony used a more force in his voice, “Where should I touch you, baby?”

“I don’t know,” T’Challa sounded as though he was fighting back tears, “I’ve never, I don’t - please just tell me what to do. I don’t want to make the decisions.”   
  


“Okay, kitten. Whatever you want.” Tony took a moment to adjust himself in his sweatpants as T’Challa whimpered at nickname. “Untie your bathrobe but don’t take it off. Then trace your fingertips down your neck for me. Slowly.” T’Challa didn’t respond but Tony could hear the rustle of his movements, the sigh as his hand traced down his neck. “That’s it, kitten. I want you to bring your hand down your chest but don’t touch your nipples or I  _ will  _ punish you.” 

“Yes Sir.”

Tony's hand went to his cock, rubbing it softly through his pants. It was time to move this along.

“Touch yourself for me, kitten. Nice and slow, just a slight pressure. Are you hard for me?”

T'Challa was moaning quietly, as though he was holding back but Tony didn't blame him, he was probably trying to not disturb the other members in the hotel. Though, Tony would love to hear him more. “That's it kitten, you're being so good for me. I love your moans baby, you've got me so hard. How would be hands feel around your pretty cock? Bet you'd beg so beautifully under me.” 

Tony could tell that T'Challa was close, he kept muttering ‘yes’ littered with the occasional ‘please’ and ‘sir’: he sounded absolutely wrecked and Tony was addicted. Tony palmed himself harder before he growled in frustration and pulled his cock out of his sweatpants. There was a wet patch on his sweatpants where his precum had stained, mixing with oil stains Tony didn't even realise was there. He started to squeeze the base of his cock and his hips automatically rolled into his hand. God, what was the man doing to him? 

“Sir, please, I'm so close, please please please.”

Tony relished in T'Challa's begging, something dark inside of him purring at the idea of having this man at his complete mercy. Tony licked his lips. “You wanna cum, kitten.” Tony started to thrust into his own hand quicker, could hear how he started panting into the phone. 

“Yes yes ye-”

“Cum for me kitten.” 

There was silence before a long, high pitched moan broke it. Tony had never wanted to see the person on the other end of the so badly, a deep yearning in his chest. Tony wanted to see T'Challa's cum sprayed across his hand and chest. Tony would bet his fortune that T'Challa probably looked thoroughly debauched, laying in an open bathrobe, on a bed that doesn't belong to him, his cum spilling onto sheets. Tony listened as T'Challa whimpered through the aftershocks.

“So good for me kitten, so good,” Tony muttered as he felt his orgasm stir in his gut. Tony couldn’t contain his groan of pleasure as he spilled over his fist. Tony expected the hear the familiar sound of someone hanging up as the embarrassment hits home, what he wasn’t expecting was the quick: “Thank you, Sir. I had an amazing time.”. Then the line disconnected and Tony was left with the silence, wishing for a man he had never even met.

* * *

T’Challa called at least once a week. Tony secretly wished that they could meet.

* * *

Tony was at a charity gala in New York when he heard the name, just a quick thing when he was walking past a group of gossiping woman: “I heard Prince T’Challa was going to make a speech.” “There's a  _ prince  _ here, what am I doing standing with you then.”

It couldn’t be  _ his  _ T’Challa, could it?

Tony found his eyes sweeping across the room.

Then he heard it. The deep, soothing voice from the podium. The voice that Tony had been hearing for at least once a week for the past five months. Tony found his gaze locking on a gorgeous man, he was an imposing figure decked in black and navy blue, delicate embroidery framing him drawing Tony’s gaze to his shoulders and the neck he dreamed of kissing. Tony found himself walking to the front of the audience as though in a trance. He wanted to be more to T’Challa, but what if he didn’t want the same thing? Tony clapped at the end of the speech like everyone else even though he hadn’t heard a word of it and dragged himself back to Pepper before he did something embarrassing, like declaring his love for a Prince. 

Tony kept T’Challa in the corner of his eye the entire night. Until he was face to face, alone, with a smiling Prince. Tony cast a quick glance around the room, hoping Pepper could save him but she was talking to Natasha.

“Hello, Mr. Stark.”

“You’re highness.”

Tony watched as T’Challa’s eyes darken. 

“And how are you tonight, Sir?” T’Challa whispered, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Perfectly well, now that you’re here, kitten.”

T’Challa’s eyes darted to his lips and back to his eyes. Then  _ his  _ Prince smiled and leaned in to kiss him, the shock gasps of everyone echoing in the room and Tony was sure he heard Pepper shout his name. Tony ignore it all. For the first time since Afghanistan, he didn’t mind someone touching him. His hand came up to cup T’Challa’s head and he deepened the kiss. He needed to remind his kitten who was in charge here.

_ They were married in three years. Whenever someone asked how they met they would just smile and politely change the topic. It was their story after all. _


End file.
